


Sins Of The Father

by Aeriel



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:28:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1379116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aeriel/pseuds/Aeriel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Queen's Watchdog is called in to investigate a high profile suicide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sins Of The Father

Thomas Bluewer had been found with a pistol in his mouth and a bullet in his brain at approximately 6:45 on the morning of August 10th. Two days later, Ciel Phantomhive received a letter requesting that he look into the circumstances surrounding Bluewer's death.   
  
"Circumstances being the operative word," Ciel remarked, several hours later, to the police commissioner at Scotland Yard. "It seems quite clear that Bluewer committed suicide."  
  
"We also reached that conclusion," growled Lord Arthur Randall, who was not pleased to see him. "I suppose you want to see the note."  
  
"How very astute of you."  
  
Scowling, Randall handed over a copy of the letter to the young earl. "The man had a gambling habit, it seems, and was considerably in debt. There's a clear motive for suicide."  
  
Ciel skimmed over the letter. There was the usual drivel about being a failure to his family and how much he loved them-- but here was a peculiar sentence. _My final regret is that I shall someday meet the Mockingbird once more in Hell_.   
  
"The Mockingbird?" he said aloud, returning the paper.   
  
"Probably a nickname for one of the men he lost money to at cards. We didn't find it significant."  
  
Ciel raised his eyebrows, but only said, "You wouldn't happen to have a list of those men's names and whereabouts?"  
  
Randall sniffed. "That is a matter for the Bluewer family to resolve."  
  
"Then I suppose I shall have to pay them a visit." Ciel stood, and gestured to his butler to follow him out.   
  
The Bluewer family. Seven daughters, one son-- Lawrence Bluewer, late of Weston College. Lawrence Bluewer would certainly not be pleased to see Ciel again. Nor was Ciel particularly keen to renew their acquaintanceship, but it couldn't be helped.   
  
Thomas Bluewer's funeral was two days later, and so Ciel arranged his schedule so he could appear at the family home afterwards with a large flower arrangement (the details of which he left up to Sebastian).  
  
"Phantomhive!" Lawrence Bluewer exclaimed, as a servant showed Ciel and his butler inside. "What in the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"Language, Lawrie," scolded one of Bluewer's sisters, as another one piped up, "Yeah, language!" Bluewer colored.   
  
"I thought I'd pay my respects," Ciel said mildly. "We were, however briefly, at school together. And there can be no denying that what has happened is tragic."  
  
"Tragic isn't the word you're looking for," Bluewer said tersely. "Try 'catastrophic'."  
  
"I can lend you money if your father's debts are an issue."  
  
Bluewer twitched. "And put my family in debt to you?"  
  
Ciel smiled. "I wouldn't require you to pay it back any time soon. All I need in return are the answers to a few questions."  
  
The older man glared at him. "And if I say no?"  
  
One of his sisters put her hand on his shoulder. "Enough, Lawrie. Don't let your pride overcome your good sense. Whatever questions you have to ask, we will answer to the best of our ability."  
  
They retired to a room upstairs, leaving two of the Bluewer sisters to manage the children and any other guests that might come by. Noticing the clock was stopped, Ciel realized that they were standing in the same room where Thomas Bluewer had shot himself. Glancing at Sebastian, he knew the demon was thinking the same thing.   
  
Bluewer crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "What do you want to know?"  
  
"What are the names of the men who your father owed significant amounts of money to?"  
  
"I can answer that," his sister said, closing her fan. "I've been looking through his records. None of them have come to us yet, but it's only a matter of time."  
  
"Unless they have the decency to cancel the debt with our father's passing," Bluewer said.  
  
"The first is Lord Henry Haverford," she continued, ignoring her brother. "The second is Lord William Holmwood. And lastly, Lord Alan Dorville."  
  
"Only three men?" Ciel asked, frowning.   
  
"Our father was not proud of his weakness for cards," Bluewer said stiffly. "He restricted himself to a small circle of friends."  
  
"You are familiar with all these men, then?"  
  
"We have known Lord Haverford for years," his sister said, thoughtfully. "But Lord Dorville and Lord Holmwood must be recent acquaintances. I've never met either of them."  
  
"Thank you. And have you ever heard of a man who goes by the name of Mockingbird?"  
  
Both Bluewer siblings shook their heads.   
  
"Our father's death came as a great shock," Bluewer said, quietly. "He was not a particularly happy man, but this…"  
  
His sister spoke up. "We know what you do, Earl Phantomhive. If our father was involved in… activities of a baser nature, we would rather not know. But if you can bring the persons who drove him to this point to justice, our father's spirit will surely rest easier."  
  
"Well, we have some names," Ciel said, later in the carriage. "I notice he didn't say anything about not having met Dorville or Holmwood."  
  
"He believes the matter to be at an end," Sebastian replied. "That whatever convinced Thomas Bluewer to end his life will leave their family in peace. Perhaps he is right."  
  
"'I shall someday meet the Mockingbird once more in Hell'," quoted Ciel. "Perhaps. Or perhaps this is only the beginning."  
  
*   *   *  
  
It did not take long for Sebastian to perform a cursory investigation into the three men. Holmwood proved largely unremarkable, owning debts to various other parties in London, though none as substantial as what Bluewer owed them. Haverford and Dorville on the other hand…  
  
"Satanists?" Ciel exclaimed.  
  
"Not precisely, my lord. Haverford is a well known hedonist, who finds conventional morals do not suit him. Dorville appears to be fascinated by all things hellish. There is even talk of him opening a themed cabaret in Paris."  
  
"How very bohemian," Ciel said dryly. "Still, this doesn't prove that Bluewer was afraid of either of them."  
  
"No. It does, however, merit investigation."  
  
The young earl inclined his head. As Sebastian turned to leave, Ciel's voice stopped him. "One of Bluewer's daughters is getting married in the fall."  
  
"That is correct, my lord."  
  
"Do you think he thought about it, before he died? Everything that he was going to miss?"  
  
"I doubt it, my lord. His note indicated a particularly narrow state of mind. He may have believed his family was better off without him."  
  
"Interesting," Ciel said thoughtfully. "So in his mind, he was committing a selfless act."  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"Of course, under the law, suicide is a crime."  
  
"Indeed, my lord."  
  
"And there can be no doubt it leaves a stain upon one's reputation. His daughter's fiancé may break off the engagement, if his family cares about such things. I doubt she will feel very grateful to him then." Ciel crossed his arms. "But she might have hated him anyway, if he lived, and confessed to his debts. In the end, it was an escape for him, and only him."  
  
Sebastian smiled. "Do you condemn his choice, then?"  
  
Ciel shrugged. "I believe it was cowardly. But it was his life, and not mine, and ultimately his life is not my business. His death, on the other hand…"  
  
*    *    *  
  
"Oh, yes, I know Henry Haverford," Lau smiled, absently petting Ran Mao. "He was a customer of mine for some time."  
  
"What about Thomas Bluewer?"  
  
"Who?"  
  
Ciel sighed. "I don't suppose you've heard of Alan Dorville, or William Holmwood?"  
  
"Are they friends of yours?"  
  
Ciel rubbed his temples. "Let's go back to Henry Haverford. Do you know of his whereabouts the night of August 9th and the morning of the 10th?"  
  
"Absolutely. He was with us, wasn't he, Rao Mao?" Ran Mao nodded slowly.   
  
"He was here? Smoking opium?"   
  
"Along with a few friends," Lau said smoothly. "Who preferred to remain nameless."  
  
"It isn't alibis we are looking for, my lord," Sebastian reminded Ciel.   
  
"Did you happen to overhear any of their conversation?" Ciel persisted.   
  
"There wasn't much of it," Lau replied, "but Lord Haverford was always prone to talk in his sleep."  
  
"And what did he say?"  
  
"'There's no escape from the Mockingbird'."  
  
"That's all?" Ciel asked urgently.  
  
"That's all. Now, tell me, who is this Mockingbird?"  
  
The young earl sighed. "If I knew, I wouldn't be here."  
  
"Oh, come now, Earl," Lau protested. "Surely our friendship means more to you than that?"  
  
"Our business association," Ciel corrected him.   
  
The Chinese man smiled. "Well, remember, if you ever wish to broaden our _business association_ , I'm all too happy to give you a discount. First time only, of course."  
  
Ciel sniffed. "Not likely. Show them out, Sebastian."  
  
*     *      *  
  
"Today's dessert is white chocolate champagne truffles with candied walnuts," Sebastian announced, setting the plate down.  
  
Ciel popped one in his mouth, contemplating the information he had received so far. Four men, all card players. Two with an interest in black magic.   
  
"Perhaps I shall invite them all here," he said, reaching for a second truffle. "If they appear, we can see how they behave around each other."  
  
"An excellent idea," Sebastian affirmed. "But three is not quite enough for a dinner party."  
  
"Holmwood and Haverford are married," retorted Ciel, leaning back in his chair. "That makes five."  
  
"Might I suggest, in that case, that you invite the Lady Elizabeth?"  
  
Ciel frowned. "Elizabeth?"  
  
"She is, after all, your fiancée. Her appearance is likely to put your guests at ease."  
  
"You mean, make them feel like they aren't being investigated?"  
  
"Precisely, sir."  
  
The young earl sighed. "Then I suppose you should begin making out the invitations."  
  
*   *   *  
  
"Cieelll!"  
  
He braced himself for the impact, but was still nearly knocked sideways as Elizabeth threw her arms around him. At least her hair smelled nice.   
  
"I'm so happy! You never invite me to parties!"  
  
"I don't often have them," Ciel pointed out.   
  
"That makes it even more special!" Elizabeth beamed. He hated to melt that smile, but it was necessary.   
  
"Lizzie," he began, gently, "this isn't just a social occasion."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"I'm looking into what role these men might have played in another man's death. I don't know yet what kind of people they are. So I won't be able to give you my full attention tonight."  
  
As anticipated, her smile wavered. "So… you're really still working."  
  
He nodded "And I'd appreciate it if you were on your guard around the other guests, and didn't mention any of this to them."  
  
"Of course I wouldn't!" Elizabeth put her hands on her hips. "A lady who can't do that much isn't worth their salt!"  
  
Ciel sighed. "Very well."  
  
Sebastian cleared his throat.  
  
"And…" Ciel hesitated. "It would probably be best if you greeted the guests with me."  
  
Elizabeth squealed loudly and threw herself at him again, nearly knocking Ciel onto his desk. "Oh Ciel, I promise I won't let you down!"   
  
Well, she was pleased, and Sebastian was pleased. That made two of them.   
  
Elizabeth was passionately recounting the details of the last game of whist that she had won at a friend's soiree when Sebastian returned.   
  
"Have all the guests already arrived?" Ciel glanced at the clock.   
  
"No, sir, but I thought you might wish to know that Lady Haverford arrived wearing a hat with a large stuffed mockingbird on it."  
  
"Oh, that's very popular," Elizabeth chimed in before Ciel could reply. "After ostrich feathers took off last season, ladies have been wearing whole birds on their hats! I don't think it's very cute, but it isn't peculiar at all."  
  
Ciel and Sebastian exchanged a glance. "Are many of them particular to the mockingbird?"  
  
"Doves are more usual," she admitted. "Or something more colorful. Why?"  
  
In for a penny, in for a pound. It seemed Ciel was going to have to reveal more about the case to his fianceé than he had anticipated.  
  
"There appears to be a person, known only as Mockingbird, who is in some way connected to these men. Lady Haverford's hat could be a coincidence, or it could be a clue as to the identity of this person."  
  
"If I may be excused, my lord, I believe I have been absent from our guests long enough," Sebastian spoke up.   
  
Ciel nodded, and waved him off. Elizabeth looked thoughtful.   
  
"Ciel," she said, after a moment. "Is the dead man you mentioned Thomas Bluewer?"  
  
"Yes," he replied, surprised. "What do you know about it?"  
  
"Only what I overheard Father and Edward discussing," she admitted. "It sounds horribly scandalous. Do you think it wasn't suicide, then?"  
  
Ciel raised his eyebrows. "A death like that would be rather difficult to achieve any other way. But not impossible." _If_ , he thought, _there were supernatural interference_.    
  
"I don't know what I'd wish for," Lizzie said softly. "If it was someone I knew. Murder is just as horrible as suicide. At least, if it was murder, that would mean they didn't want to leave me. But if it was suicide… maybe they were happy, at the end."  
  
He had seen her in mourning before, for Madam Red. And presumably she had worn it for his parents, as well. He wondered what she would wear when it was his funeral.   
  
"Ciel?" Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "Promise you won't die like that."  
  
Ciel took her hand, and kissed it. "I promise I have no desire to leave you."  
  
Lizzie frowned. "And?"  
  
"I promise I won't die like that, alone and afraid."  
  
Her shoulders slumped with relief. "Thank you."  
  
*     *    *  
  
Shortly after Lord Dorville arrived, Ciel descended the staircase, Lady Elizabeth on his arm. To his relief, she seemed quite serene, not betraying that this was the first time they had appeared publicly as a couple.   
  
Lady Haverford was conversing cheerfully with Lady Holmwood, while Lord Holmwood observed them warily. He was a thin, pale man, who appeared to need the aid of his walking stick to stay upright.   
  
Lord Haverford and Lord Dorville had also been engaged in conversation, though they stopped as soon as they noticed Ciel and Elizabeth. Polite, or suspicious? Dorville was a slightly overweight gentleman with a mustache, and Haverford a startlingly beautiful taller man who seemed most at ease.  
  
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We are pleased that you have all arrived, hopefully without incident, and are looking forward to making your acquaintances tonight. As I believe you are all familiar with each other, no introductions shall be necessary save for that of my lovely fiancée, the Lady Elizabeth Midford." Lizzie curtsied. "Now, if you will kindly follow my man Sebastian into the dining room, seating arrangements have been made."  
  
Dinner passed without incident, apart from the time Lizzie nearly bounced out of her chair with delight when Lady Haverford complimented her on her dress, until dessert was served (a dark chocolate raspberry mousse). At a lull in the conversation, Ciel set down his fork, leaned back, and said, "Now, shall we talk about Thomas Bluewer?"  
  
The reaction was instantaneous. Haverford choked, his lady wife gasped openly, Dorville's eyes darted around the room. Even Lizzie looked startled. Only the Holmwoods remained calm.   
  
"What is it that you wish to know?" Lord Holmwood asked, softly.   
  
"I'll not stand for this!" Lord Haverford exclaimed, getting up.   
  
"Henry, don't you dare!" cried his wife, clutching at his arm.   
  
"Yes, sit down, Henry," Lord Dorville said, a resigned look on his face. "I, for, one, have nothing to hide."  
  
"Please return to your seat, Lord Haverford," Sebastian said mildly. "You are in no danger here."  
  
"Danger? Who said anything about danger?" Haverford muttered, but did as requested.  
  
Ciel smiled. "You were at school with Bluewer, Lord Haverford, correct?"  
  
"Correct," Haverford said grudgingly.   
  
"Was that where you first discovered his weakness for gambling?"  
  
"Betting was never unusual for us students," he returned. "He was like everyone else in that respect-- perhaps he took a few more chances, threw a bit more money around. But it wasn't a weakness."  
  
Lord Dorville snorted. "Of course it wouldn't seem that way to you, Henry. You always win."  
  
"I must admit, I'm at a loss to see where you fit in, Lord Dorville," Ciel remarked. "Lord Holmwood is a cousin of Haverford's, but you seem to have gained these men's trust without precedent."  
  
"Constance and I are childhood friends," Dorville said calmly. "We happened to encounter one another while I was doing business with her husband. And I am well known for my extreme discretion."  
  
"An admirable quality in the manager of a nightclub. Or don't you like to speak of that?"  
  
Dorville sniffed. "That place was an abysmal bore. My next venture will be far more exciting."  
  
"Ah, yes, the 'Tavern of Hell'." Constance Haverford gasped again, and Lady Holmwood covered her mouth. "Not the most reverent of concepts, and certainly unfit for London Society. But that is your business, not mine. While brings us, at last, to Lord Holmwood."  
  
Lord Holmwood sighed. "I know that I should have known better than to continue playing cards with Thomas Bluewer. He was never what you would call a stable man, and he had a tendency to blame others for his misfortunes."  
  
"Such as the Mockingbird?"  
  
The men in the room tensed. Lady Haverford looked puzzled, and Lady Holmwood looked as though she were going to laugh.   
  
"Why on earth would Thomas Bluewer be worried about a bird?" she asked.   
  
Lord Holmwood sighed. "Because that was his name for me. I'm afraid there's no great mystery in that last line of his suicide note- yes, boy, I saw it too. I have always had a great gift for imitation, and I was the one to whom Thomas owed the most money."  
  
Lizzie frowned visibly.   
  
"I see," Ciel said. "Gentlemen, would you care to join me in a game of billiards?"  
  
He saw Lizzie's mouth form a small 'oh!', quickly masked, as she turned to their guests and said, "Ladies, let's take tea in the parlor."  
  
Though conversation was light in the billiard room (and Ciel, of course, won every game) his guests were noticeably unsettled, even Lord Holmwood. Lord Dorville was the closest to being at ease, and even he missed a few shots that should have been easy for even the rankest amateur to make.   
  
As the guests were leaving, Lizzie, rejoining him, murmured, "Ciel, I need to talk to you about something."   
  
He nodded, watching as Lady Holmwood retrieved her hat, which had a large dark blue bird on it. His fiancée had been quite right about the fashion. "What is it, Lizzie?"  
  
"Lord Holmwood was lying about being the Mockingbird, wasn't he?"  
  
Ciel was surprised, although he had come to the same conclusion himself. "What makes you say that?"  
  
"His hands were shaking so badly, and he wouldn't look directly at you."  
  
"Is that what you wanted to tell me?"  
  
"Well," Lizzie hesitated. "There's something very strange about Constance and Lucy."  
  
Ciel frowned. "You mean Lady Haverford and Lady Holmwood?"  
  
She nodded. "Lucy did most of the talking, and Constance let her, even though you could see at dinner that she was perfectly capable of speaking her own mind. And I asked about the hat, and it looks like it was a gift from Lucy."  
  
"Is that odd?"  
  
Lizzie bit her lip. "No, but… I don't know how to describe it, but there's something wrong about the two of them. It frightened me."  
  
"I'll take it under consideration," Ciel said.   
  
She hugged him tightly one last time before leaving.   
  
"Sebastian. Did you notice anything strange about the two women?"  
  
Sebastian smiled. "Lady Elizabeth was quite right to be suspicious. I do believe that Lady Lucy Holmwood is far from the human woman she claims to be."  
  
Ciel's grip tightened on his walking stick. "And Lady Haverford?"  
  
"Appears to be entirely mortal, though perhaps in thrall. As for Lord Holmwood, he is very near to death, of decidedly unnatural causes."  
  
He frowned. "Explain yourself. Is Lucy Holmwood devouring his soul?"  
  
Sebastian's eyes briefly glowed red. "One does not consume a soul in pieces. Furthermore, his soul seems entirely intact. It is his lifespan itself that seems to be draining away. Quite unusual, if I may say so, my lord."  
  
Ciel rubbed his temples. "Does that mean we are dealing with a vampire?"  
  
"Perhaps."  
  
"But you have another suspicion?"   
  
"If our culprit is indeed Lady Holmwood, her hold over these men suggests a succubus."   
  
"A succubus," Ciel repeated. "You're suggesting she's… sleeping with them?"  
  
Sebastian inclined his head. "You needn't be embarrassed, my lord."  
  
"I'm not embarrassed!" he growled, flushing.   
  
"Very good, my lord."  
  
Ciel had to admit that the theory would fit Bluewer's suicide. If he'd had, er, relations with a woman outside of wedlock, particularly someone else's wife, it would go a long way towards explaining the despair that had lead him to write that note. But as to the bit about seeing the Mockingbird in Hell… "Do you think they know?"  
  
"Her true nature? Should my theory prove correct, almost certainly. There are certain aspects that a succubus cannot hide at all times."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Many grow claws or a tail during the act," Sebastian said bluntly. "They are also, as a general rule, colder to the touch than human women."  
  
"I see," Ciel coughed uncomfortably. "How shall we go about killing her?"  
  
Sebastian smiled.   
  
*    *   *  
  
The next day, Ciel received a note in Lawrence Bluewer's hand.   
  
_Phantomhive,_  
  
 _I hate to admit it but it seems I've gotten myself in rather over my head. Meet me at the Bachelor's Club at 5 pm sharp, and I'll tell you all I know._  
  
The young earl sniffed. "Gentlemen's clubs. Where the idle go to discuss their idiocy."  
  
Nevertheless, come 5 o'clock, Ciel and Sebastian entered the club, drawing some stares from the various members.  
  
"Hey, no kids allowed!" somebody shouted.   
  
"Are you mad?" someone else hissed. "That's Earl Phantomhive, the Queen's Watchdog!"  
  
A hush came over the crowd then. Lawrence Bluewer folded his newspaper, and stood, gesturing for Ciel to follow. They went upstairs to a private room, after a servant took their hats and coats.   
  
"I've discovered my father was having an affair with Lucy Holmwood," Bluewer said the moment the door closed. "What's more, the deviless was blackmailing him."  
  
"You may be closer with that description than you know," Ciel said dryly. "How did you discover this?"  
  
"She came to collect the money my father owed her, and told me herself," Bluewer admitted. "At first I thought she was lying, but… she knew about Derrick Arden."  
  
"Ah."  
  
"Even if she somehow discovered it without the aid of my father, it meant I had to comply with her demands." Bluewer swallowed. "I'm meeting her tonight, in two hours."  
  
"I suspect Thomas Bluewer is not the only one Lady Holmwood has been collecting monetary compensation from," Sebastian murmured.  
  
Ciel frowned. "The question is, what does she need the money for?"  
  
Bluewer scoffed. "What does any woman need money for?"  
  
The mockingbird hat.  
  
"Constance Haverford," Sebastian said.  
  
*    *    *  
  
As the carriage carrying Lawrence Bluewer rattled over the London streets, Sebastian and Ciel followed on foot from a safe distance.   
  
"It doesn't make sense," Ciel complained. "Demons don't make friends, do they?"  
  
"They take interests," Sebastian replied. "Perhaps she considers Constance a pet. Perhaps a lover."  
  
"But she's a woman!" Ciel objected.   
  
"Such things are far from impossible."  
  
Trying to work that one out made Ciel's face grow hot. "Never mind."  
  
The meeting was at a creaky little abandoned building down by the docks, with thin walls perfect for eavesdropping. Ciel crouched in the room next to the one Bluewer waited in, Sebastian standing nearby.   
  
It was fifteen minutes past the hour when the click of Lucy Holmwood's heels echoed through the building.   
  
"So, you came after all." A low laugh.   
  
"I had no choice, did I?" Lawrence Bluewer's voice hissed.   
  
"Did you bring the money?"  
  
"I… I don't have all of it. Not now. But I will."  
  
"Acceptable, for now. But I'll take a little extra for my trouble."  
  
The gunshot, unexpected, made Ciel jump. Sebastian offered him his hand. "I do believe it is time for us to intervene."  
  
Lucy Holmwood lay on the floor, blood seeping into the brown taffeta of her dress, blonde hair escaping from its severe bun, hat topped with a blue mockingbird sliding off her head.   
  
"She was advancing on me," Lawrence Bluewer was breathing heavily, gun still raised in the air. "I thought she had a weapon."  
  
"Oh," she said, "I do."  
  
Slowly, unevenly, she made her way upright, arms spread wide, eyes the color of the blood dripping from the bullet wound in her chest.   
  
"Impossible," Bluewer breathed.   
  
"Far from it," Ciel said dryly.  
  
The creature that called itself Lucy Holmwood turned, claws tearing the bloody dress and corset off her milk white body, exposing it to the warm summer air. "Ah, Earl Phantomhive," she purred. "You're a little young for my tastes, but far be it from me to refuse live bait. Unless, of course," her eyes flicked to Sebastian, "you have any objections?"  
  
"I'm afraid I do." Sebastian stepped in front of Ciel, who was pink again. "You may wish to avert your eyes, my lord."  
  
Another gunshot rang out, and the succubus's body shook with the impact.   
  
"Die!" Lawrence Bluewer shouted. "Damn you, die!"  
  
"Your enthusiasm is commendable, Lord Bluewer," Sebastian said. "But regrettably, unhelpful. Succubi do not succumb to mortal wounds. You must," he removed his gloves, "tear them limb from limb."  
  
Bluewer dropped his gun with a clatter. The succubus smiled. "What's a fine demon like yourself doing in a slum like this?"  
  
"Merely waiting for my orders."  
  
"Sebastian," said Ciel. "Kill her."  
  
Sebastian smiled, and knives appeared between his fingers. "Yes, my lord."  
  
The clash between demon and succubus proved brief. Whatever expertise she had, it did not extend to battle, particularly against something as honed as Sebastian. Her arms went first, then her legs, and finally her head.   
  
Ciel wrinkled his nose. "You'd best burn the place down. The Yard won't want to have to see this mess."  
  
Lawrence Bluewer fell to his knees in the corner, hands over his face. Ciel sighed, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Bluewer. We're leaving."  
  
"I don't understand," he whispered. "What was she? What are you?"  
  
"Nothing you need bother about. Now get up and stop sniveling. Your family needs you, don't they?"  
  
"My family," Bluewer said softly. He got up, gingerly, and followed Ciel and Sebastian outside without a word.   
  
"I trust you can find your way home without assistance."  
  
Bluewer nodded, eyes moving towards Sebastian, but made no comment.   
  
After he was gone, and the building beginning to catch fire, Sebastian turned to Ciel and said, "There is one more small matter."  
  
"What is it?" Ciel said impatiently. "I'm tired."  
  
"Succubi have a tendency to collect the semen of the men they've fornicated with, and use it to reproduce. There is a possibility that there is an infant of this kind somewhere in the city."  
  
Ciel ground his teeth. "You couldn't have mentioned this before she died? We might have interrogated her."  
  
"She would certainly have died before revealing the location of her young. Besides, there are few possibilities. She might be keeping it at her home, or it might be under the protection of Lady Haverford."  
  
"Why would Lady Haverford protect a succubus child? You said yourself she's entirely human. Do you think they had a contract?"  
  
Sebastian shook his head. "I cannot guess at Lady Haverford's motives. I only know that it is a possibility."  
  
Ciel sighed. "How dangerous is it likely to be?"  
  
"Not very, depending on its exact age. Certainly no danger to the conscious."  
  
"And what do you mean by that?"  
  
"Young demons of that sort only take their prey during sleep."  
  
Ciel considered that for a moment. "What do you propose we do about it?"  
  
Sebastian's eyes were red in the moonlight. "We could obtain search warrants for both estates. Or we could wait until the child becomes a problem."  
  
He yawned. "We wait, then."  
   
*    *    *  
  
"Today's tea is Xing Ren Xiang oolong from Guangdong Province in China."  
  
Ciel raised the teacup to his nose. "An almond fragrance?"  
  
"It's delicious, Sebastian," Lizzie said, nibbling on a scone. "Say, Ciel, did you hear Lucy Holmwood's gone missing?"  
  
"I did not."  
  
"A week ago she went out to the theater and never came back! I didn't like her very much, but I do feel sorry for Lord Holmwood."  
  
Ciel nodded, not paying much attention. It wasn't terribly surprising that the Yard hadn't yet worked out that Lady Holmwood had never actually made it to the theater, if she even planned to go in the first place.   
  
The subject of conversation passed on to various other minor scandals of the upper class-- this one had worn a lower neckline than was considered suitable for her age, that one had coughed in church, and Lizzie wanted a puppy.   
  
"Ed suggested a mastiff, but they aren't cute at all! I thought maybe a spaniel or a pomeranian. Mother says they shed, but…"  
  
Ciel wondered idly if Frances would be angry with him if he bought his fiancée a pet. It seemed a harmless enough diversion, and it would make for a good birthday present.  
  
Besides, he should reward her somehow for pointing out Lady Holmwood's peculiarity to him.   
  
He realized after a moment that Lizzie was looking at him expectantly, having stopped talking some time ago. Blast. "Forgive me, my mind was wandering."  
  
She pouted. "I said, doesn't the Queen have dogs?"  
  
"Several, I believe," Ciel said sheepishly. "I've never met them myself."  
  
When had he gotten so tired? He had slept soundly the night before, and the night before that. Yet his concentration was faltering, and he found he could barely keep his eyes open.   
  
"Ciel."   
  
Lizzie knelt before him, her eyes shining with adoration. He opened his mouth to ask what she was doing there, but the question died in his throat as she lowered her head between his legs, her breath teasing his bare skin. She pressed a kiss to the side of his knee, and Ciel shuddered, uncomfortably hot and utterly confused.   
  
How was it possible to be so tired and yet so awake at the same time? His eyes fell shut as her tongue flicked against his skin, traveling higher and higher up his thigh until he had to open his eyes because he was still clothed, and it didn't make any sense.   
  
Sebastian was on his knees before him instead.   
  
Ciel yelped in surprise, waking himself up.   
  
Sebastian, placing the used dishes on the tea tray, glanced at him. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
"No," Ciel said gruffly, crossing his legs. "You shouldn't have let me drift off like that. Did Lizzie go home?"  
  
"She did."  
  
He sighed. "She'll think me terribly rude."  
  
"On the contrary, my lord. She said it was 'sweet'."  
  
Ciel made a face. "Even worse."  
  
Sebastian made no attempt to conceal his amusement. "If I may venture a suggestion, my lord, your schedule is free for the rest of the afternoon. A nap in your own bed would likely be more refreshing."  
  
He wanted to protest, but the yawn forming in his mouth suggested he had better listen to Sebastian.   
  
Ciel's head had scarcely hit the pillow when he realized he couldn't move. Panic seized hold of him, as he tried in vain to so much as flex his fingers.   
  
"Ssh. Don't fight it. Relax."  
  
It was Lizzie's voice. From out of the corner of his eye he could see her lying next to him, an odd expression on her face.   
  
"Don't fight _what_?" he asked, struggling to turn his head.   
  
"This will be easier if you calm yourself, young master." Sebastian's voice now, coming from the other side of the room. "I promise you have nothing to fear."  
  
All of a sudden, his limbs were free, and Ciel took full advantage, scrambling up to his feet, standing on the bed. Lizzie pouted, and Sebastian strode towards him, apparently unconcerned. "What are the both of you talking about? Sebastian, I command you to tell me what's going on!"  
  
Sebastian's eyes were the color of dried blood. "But this is a dream, my lord. You have no power here." He smiled a terrible smile.   
  
"Rubbish," Ciel retorted, crossing his arms. "If I'm dreaming, then I don't see why I shouldn't have complete control. Now both of you, get out of here and let me sleep."  
  
"But, Ciel," Lizzie said, sitting up. "You'll be terribly lonely without us."  
  
"Indeed, my lady," said Sebastian. "The young master doesn't like to sleep alone, does he?"  
  
"Oh, he wants to be _persuaded_ ," Lizzie said, in a voice that sounded nothing like her. This impression only intensified as she took two of Ciel's fingers into her mouth.   
  
Ciel jerked his hand away. "Stop that!"   
  
Sebastian stepped onto the bed beside him. "He requires a firmer hand, it seems," he breathed, arms snaking around Ciel, who found himself paralyzed once more. Lizzie's hand was on his leg, moving up, and he was struck by how oddly cold she was.  
  
Cold.   
  
"You're a succubus!" he exclaimed.   
  
Lizzie's smile grew too wide for her face, which shimmered and elongated into a set of features not unlike Lucy Holmwood's, clothes evaporating in the process. "Not bad for a human child."  
  
Ciel's face was hot as he tried to keep his eyes on the succubus's face. The man that wasn't Sebastian licked his cheek. "Still so young, but there's desire rooted deep here. We could feast on you for years to come."  
  
A small cough diverted their attentions. "That, I'm afraid," said a familiar voice, "I cannot allow."  
  
The real Sebastian stepped into view, prompting Ciel to elbow the false one in the face. Sebastian's double's grip loosened, body shifting into a naked male form.  
  
"I see our Lady Holmwood had two children," observed Sebastian. "An incubus as well, is it?"  
  
"You killed our mother," snarled the female. "Now we'll take from you that which is most precious to you." Her hands turned to claws, which gripped Ciel by the legs, yanking him off his feet.   
  
"My, my," Sebastian commented, removing his gloves. "It seems you are once more in peril, sir." In a nearly invisible motion, he tore off the head of the incubus, who floundered helplessly for a moment before its other limbs were ripped away.   
  
"I'm glad this is entertaining to you," Ciel snarled, punching the succubus, who flinched, giving him time to pull himself out of her grasp. "You could have at least warned me you were planning to use me as bait to attract them."  
  
The demon moved to the other side of the bed, twisting the head of the succubus until her bones cracked and she screamed. "If you were alerted to their presence, they might not have materialized at all. Or, alternatively, you might have been too anxious to sleep, and that would never do." The succubus's head was wrenched from her shoulders, her body pulled in half.   
  
That gave him pause. "I'm not… sleeping right now?"  
  
"You were asleep," Sebastian clarified. "But you seem to have woken yourself before I arrived."  
  
Ciel eyed the remains with disdain. "And there was no alternative to bringing the fight to my bedroom?"  
  
"Unfortunately, you woke before they could fully manifest in the drawing room, sir. And of course there was the Lady Elizabeth to think of."  
  
He frowned. "What would you have done if they had manifested before her?"  
  
"I persuaded her to leave before there was any danger of that," Sebastian said smoothly.   
  
There was a tentative knock on the door, followed by Maylene's voice. "Young master? Are you all right?"   
  
"Quite fine, thank you," Ciel said loudly. He raised his eyebrows at Sebastian.   
  
"My apologies," the butler replied. "I should not have given her the time to scream."  
  
"Are we certain that's the last of them?"  
  
Replacing his gloves, Sebastian said, "I should think so. It seems unlikely that the pair would have left a sibling behind."    
  
Ciel stood up. "Good."  
  
After Sebastian dressed him, Ciel went to his study to look over proposals for Funtom's Christmas products. Beside them was a telegram from Lord Holmwood.  
  
 _If it was you, thank you._   
  
So, Holmwood had been another victim, not an accomplice. Ciel crumpled the telegram and threw it in the bin. He didn't require gratitude from such a weak person.   
  
There would be no such correspondence from Bluewer.  
  
He gazed at a sketch of a stuffed dog with long hair and black button eyes. Lizzie would like it. He put it on the approvals pile. 

**Author's Note:**

> The Tavern of Hell is a reference to Cabaret de L'enfer and Cabaret du Néant, the existence of which delights me.


End file.
